


The President of Mars

by wanderingmagpie



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Gen, T for swears, trixie goes to space, what the hell is a beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingmagpie/pseuds/wanderingmagpie
Summary: Lucifer has the best present planned for Trixie’s birthday, and Chloe is absolutely going to kill him for it.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 58
Kudos: 318





	The President of Mars

Lucifer owes the Detective’s offspring a favour.

Beatrice, the devious little miscreant, in an unspeakable incident involving child driving lessons, a hotel lobby, and avoiding culpability with her mother, had conned him into offering a blank cheque in return for her silence.

The call to collect comes up one night at the Detective’s home. Chloe had invited him over that afternoon, a nervous smile in her eyes and the offer of a quiet night in. He hadn’t spent much time around Beatrice since Chole and him had become official - for real this time - and though the Detective swore she hadn’t told Beatrice, the urchin’s smile when she answered the door told him she already knew.

During dinner, the child’s eyes follow her mother to the kitchen - to grab a container of clumpy powder that masquerades as parmesan cheese, absolutely criminal - and deeming her out of hearing range, the child leans over the table in a stage whisper.

“It’s my birthday soon, you know,” she says around a mouthful of pasta.

“Is it, now?” He hides his grimace at her table manners behind a bite of his own food.

“Yeah, and you owe me.” She points at Lucifer with her fork, accidentally flinging pasta sauce at him in the process. She freezes and mouths an ‘oops’ at him.

“That I do.” He grabs a serviette and dabs at his face. At least his suit was spared. He's curious what she's going to demand this time, maybe a tiger, or a less unfortunate driving lesson-

“I want something cool. Like a Nintendo Switch. Or a snake.”

“Is that all?" he asks, disappointed. A simple birthday present it is. "Very well, child."

“Yes!” she throws her hands up into the air in victory, and then dives back into her food as she notices her mother coming back from the kitchen, ‘parmesan cheese’ in hand. Dreadful.

\--

“So, what are you planning on getting my daughter?” Chloe asks Lucifer over a glass of wine. They’re curled up on the couch, Chloe tucked into his side after Trixie's gone to bed.

She relishes in moments like this, that make all the time it took to get them here, all the misunderstandings and the heartache worth it. Since getting together, Lucifer has opened up like she’s never seen before. There’s a quiet happiness that sparks in his eyes now, and it warms her to think that she helped put that there. And while some part of her still doesn’t feel like she deserves it, still feels guilty, she'll take it.

Chloe’s feeling sleepy even though it’s only nine, and she’ll have to talk Lucifer into staying over before she falls asleep on his shoulder, not that he’ll need much convincing at all. 

“Hm?” He sounds halfway to falling asleep himself, and she smiles into his shoulder.

“I could hear you two scheming from the kitchen,” she says. “I’m not sure what she did to get you to owe her a favour, but I’m guessing that I don’t want to know.”

She gets a snort in reply and that’s all the answer she needs.

“Any ideas?”

He hums to himself as he absently draws patterns on her arm, the heat of his hand warming her shoulder. “I do know of a fellow who is looking to rehome a rainbow boa.”

“You’re not getting her a snake.” She hears his inhale to reply, and she continues before he beats her to it. “Or a Switch. She wants Animal Crossing and I'll never see her again if she gets that game."

“Very well.” He sighs. “That runs me out of options then. Thoughts?”

“How about… you do something with her? An experience instead of a toy.” she bites her lip. She’s not sure that he’ll go for this, or if he’ll even be up for it. Lucifer’s always been… weird around Trixie, though he likes her a lot more than he lets on.

The rumble of Trixie’s sliding door sounds behind them, and Chloe turns her head to see her sleepy-eyed daughter padding out in sock-clad feet.

“I forgot Miss Alien,” Trixie mumbles, almost bumping into the couch on her way over. Chloe smiles. Trixie's getting so big, and it's only a matter of time before she'll feel too old for toys and stuffed animals.

Lucifer grabs her stuffed doll from its resting place on the coffee table and pauses, looking down thoughtfully at the doll before handing it over to Trixie. As she leaves, Miss Alien cuddled to her chest, Chloe turns back to Lucifer, but his eyes are still following Trixie back to her room.

“I think I've just the idea,” he says, and instincts honed from years of working with Lucifer set off alarm bells in her head.

\--

Lucifer’s been asking Trixie a lot of questions lately and it's starting to get weird. 'Are you afraid of heights?' and 'Do roller coasters make you nauseous?' give way to 'Do you sweat a lot?' and 'How long can you hold your bladder?' before she hucks Ms. Alien at his head as hard as she can.

“Child, this is important," Lucifer yelps as Ms. Alien knocks him right in the face. Hah. He holds her loyal second in command in his hands and she hears him mutter, “Is this thing weighted?” as she grabs for the next deployable weapon in her arsenal.

“You’re being weird.” Trixie spots Molly McDowell under her bed and scoops her up. She's covered in years worth of dust, and she’s missing her goggles, but she’ll survive the flight without them.

"It's for your birthday." 

Trixie freezes mid swing as her mind churns through his previous questions. Heights. Roller coasters. Long wait times and hot weather. _Roller coasters._

No. way.

"Are you taking me to a theme park?" she screeches, and Lucifer flinches like she's hugged him.

"That's not-"

"Are you taking me to _Disneyland?_ "

"Beatrice-"

"My friends are gonna be sooo jealous!"

Lucifer sighs into Miss Alien’s forehead. “It’s a surprise, Urchin. I’ve worked out your availability with your mother already.”

She grins and hugs him before he can get away. A surprise trip with Lucifer. It’s gonna be awesome.

\--

Lucifer never understood the human desire to travel to other planets when theirs was clearly the best of the bunch. Nevertheless, he’s long been aware of Beatrice’s desire to rule the crusty red one, and a quick check in with Maze confirms that this is still the case. He’s never taken a human to see the cosmos, and he’s surprised at how excited he is at the prospect. It’s a confounding reaction which he’ll definitely have to unpack with Dr. Linda at a later date.

It’s surprisingly difficult to get his hands on a child-sized space suit, and Lucifer has to call in three of his NASA favours to make it happen. It has to be custom made, because apparently no one had thought to send a child to space before this, which he finds to be a glaring oversight. When he insisted that it had to be fully functional, the man even had the gall to look mildly terrified.

On the morning of the planned trip, the Detective arrives at his penthouse with her child in tow. Lucifer’s been tight lipped about what he’s doing with the girl beyond flying, and he can tell that it’s made the Detective suspicious. Lucifer smiles at her and shoos her back to the elevator. She’s still shooting him a glare even as the elevator doors close between them.

His attention turns to Beatrice. She’s gotten over her ‘touching everything in his place’ phase at this point, and thank Dad for that. They stand in silence and eye each other.

“Child,” he says. “Do you still intend to be the president of Mars?”

The child in question rolls her eyes, a move she picked up from her mother. “I’m not eight anymore. I know that’s never gonna happen.”

Lucifer shrugs, aiming for nonchalance when his own excitement is still buzzing under his skin. “Shame, ‘cause I was going to fly you there.” He watches the urchin’s face scrunch up at his words, looking much like the heinous creature that humanity calls a pug.

“But the Mars rockets can’t carry people,” she says, “and they take forever to get there.”

“You... are aware I'm an angel, yes? That I have wings? That I can fly?” Lucifer frowns. “Maze said you knew."

Beatrice’s mouth quirks like she's trying to hold back a smile, and her eyes hold a tentative excitement. "Maze said you cut them off."

"They grew back years ago, Child. Do keep up. Now,” he says, reaching for the package on the bartop, “I believe this is for you."

The excitement in her eyes blooms as he holds out the large box in his arms. She moves to take it, and almost comes tumbling down with the weight of it. He watches with bated breath as she opens it to find the urchin-sized space suit. Lucifer watches the child heave it out of the box, and he delights in her expression as she looks at the suit in wonder. She looks it over, fiddling with the buckles and pulling the visor up and down, her face stretched wide in a smile. 

He finds himself smiling in turn and reaches for the bottom of the box, where a flag is tucked under one of the pant legs. She looks up at him curiously.

"You can't very well be the president of a nation without a flag, can you?" he offers in reply. “Not that I understand your desire to rule.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be the president of Mars?” she asks.

"Honestly Beatrice, ruling's not as great as you’d think it to be. You have _timetables,_ and _obligations._ " He spits out the words like the poison they are.

Despite his very serious and sincere warning, the girl still has the gall to giggle at him. At him. Laughing at his pain, how dare she. He pulls out the base layer of the space suit and shoves it into her arms.

"Now go get dressed, go, go," he says as he herds her into the bathroom.

Lucifer walks out to the balcony to wait. The urchin really has grown on him these past few years, worming her way into his heart with her sticky hands and toothy smiles. For all he protests, he does enjoy her company. She’s sharp and a little devious, which he appreciates and encourages. Not everyone can con the Devil and get away with it. Multiple times.

He hears movement behind him and turns to find Beatrice dressed in the proffered base layer. Lucifer and Beatrice get her wrangled into the rest of the suit with the help of the internet and the instructions from the creator, with no small amount of cursing on his part.

"Ready to go?" he asks while giving the suit helmet a light shake, checking that it’s on right, and she giggles.

"Don't you need a suit too?"

He waves a hand, dismissive. "Angel, darling. It would be a terrible design flaw on my Father’s part if I could fly through space but not survive the trip.” He flits around her and fiddles with the space suit, double and triple checking everything one last time before he smiles, satisfied.

"Right! Let's be off, shall we?" he says. Lucifer unfurls his wings, and the urchin's eyes go wide.

“They’re so pretty,” she says, and though she’s not in a trance, it’s a near thing. 

He can’t help it: he puffs up at her praise. “Of course,” he says, “I am the brightest of all of my siblings, after all.” He adjusts his cufflinks under her gaze, little stars just for the occasion.

He scoops her up and she nestles into his arms, relaxed and trusting. He’s caught off guard by a warm rush of affection that he wasn’t expecting, and he shakes it off with a smile. With a hard beat of his wings, they’re airborne.

Beatrice whoops with untethered joy as they begin their climb up through the atmosphere. They burst through clouds and barrel roll past a flock of geese. He flies them past the moon on the way, just to see the child's face light up with wonder, and Beatrice follows it with her eyes the whole way past. She quickly grows bored of the open expanse of nothingness between the Moon and Mars, so he picks up the pace and they arrive within seconds.

The backbeats of Lucifer’s wings during the landing stirs up a cloud of dust, and the two of them are covered to the knee in red. He looks down at his now ruined shoes in dismay.

"Bloody hell, should've worn a different pair," he mutters to himself as he sets the child down. She doesn’t move, still dazed by the jump in speed, but then she shakes her head and turns a slow circle, taking in the landscape around them.

It’s a far cry from Earth’s lush and intricate ecosystems, but it’s foreign enough to humans to inspire its own kind of awe, he supposes. The distinctive red terrain is littered with darker rocks, stretching off to the horizon of a hazy sky that puts LA’s smog to shame. Here, the sun looks noticeably smaller than it does from Earth.

Beatrice flails, and he can see her talking a mile a minute as she flaps around, but he can't hear a word. Right. He grabs an earpiece from his pocket and puts it on.

"-so cool, Lucifer! This is the best birthday present ever!"

She attacks him in that way she so often does, doing her best to bowl him over and then squeeze the life out of him. With the added weight of her space suit, she may have succeeded if he were human.

"Now Beatrice-"

Before he can get two words out, he's interrupted by a cackle, and he looks down to see Beatrice doubled over laughing. He sighs, and curses his Father's design choices for Mars.

"Yes, child. My voice is much deeper here; lower air pressure tends to do that. Please bear with me."

His explanation does nothing but send her into another fit of giggles and he waits, exasperated, for her to finish. 

"Here're your things, spawn. Have fun," he says, the words coming out short and clipped. He shoves her phone and flag into her arms, and mentally throws away the speech he was going to give. He resolves not to speak unless absolutely necessary, lest the thankless cretin use up all her oxygen laughing at him. What would he tell her mother then?

She giggles a thanks and wanders off, bounding along in the planet's slightly weaker gravity. On a nearby rolling hill, she stops, and Lucifer watches as she raises the flag overhead with a flair for the dramatic that he respects, and stabs it into the ground.

Propelled by habit, Lucifer goes through the motions of lighting a cigarette. Three attempts later results in sparks but no flames, and he curses his father once again for not giving Mars more of an atmosphere. Lucifer hears the telltale snap of an artificial shutter, sounding deeper than normal, and shifts his eyes to see Beatrice posing for a selfie with the flag.

"Make sure to tag me," he says, and she giggles an okay and he rolls his eyes. Honestly, his voice isn't that funny.

Photo op done, the urchin scuttles off towards one of the larger rocks in the area, phone at the ready. Lucifer shrugs his wings away and follows after her.

"Lucifer, look!"

His approach reveals Beatrice holding up a chunk of red rock among other chunks of red rock like a precious gem.

"It’s shaped like a heart! Can I bring it home?"

He doesn’t really see it. It’s a lopsided heart at best, but he nods, and the urchin’s mouth twitches like she knows he's not speaking on purpose.

They hike across the rocky not-earth, collecting only the best rocks along the way and making note of all of the good locations for a colony, until Beatrice begins to wilt and he flies her home. He texts Chloe as he lands back on his balcony and then goes to change out of his dusty, tragically ruined suit. 

\--

When Chloe picks up her daughter, Trixie’s fading fast, but if it weren’t for her seatbelt, Chloe’s sure Trixie would vibrate right out of her seat. Trixie shows off some rocks that she says are from Mars, and Chloe smiles and plays along. She brushes it off, thinking Lucifer took her to a museum or on a NASA tour. 

It’s only during a phone break while reviewing a case that Chloe sees her daughter’s Instagram and fully realizes what Trixie was saying.

Her daughter went to Mars. Lucifer actually took her daughter to Mars. It's sweet, in its own insane Lucifer way, but Mars. Actual freakin Mars. She tries to settle back into her work, but recent events have rendered her incapable of understanding words. After 5 minutes of reading and rereading the same paragraph, she gives up and puts her head in her hands.

"Of course. Satan took my daughter to Mars for her birthday. This is my life now."

\--

Two years later, deep in the bowels of NASA’s headquarters, the Mars Perseverance Rover team gathers in a rarely used boardroom. Romero is looking haggard: hair a mess from running his fingers through it, and bags under his eyes to rival a raccoon. Glancing around, he makes note of everyone in the room. Everyone who _knows._

“Nobody is going to believe this, and the flat earthers would have a field day. _I'm_ not even convinced this is real, and we know this data came from the dish. What do we even do with this?” Romero gestures wildly to the table in front of him, almost smacking Lundell in the face in the process.

Strewn across the boardroom table are photos of footprints in reddish soil, coming from two different sets of shoes. One set is clearly from a space suit, though the prints are oddly small. The other set looks like they could be from a pair of men's dress shoes, and if the faint signature imprint in the dust is anything to go by, they're Louboutins. In space. 

The group is loath to believe that somebody's _actually_ been to Mars, but the most damning photo of them all is of a martian landscape containing a lightly-worn little flag declaring one Trixie Espinoza the president of Mars.

Nobody knows what the hell to do about this. Hence the emergency meeting away from the prying eyes of the higher ups.

There's a squeak from the corner of the room, and everyone turns to Dawson, who's staring at his laptop in terror.

"Well," Romero says, massaging the bridge of his nose, a stress-induced habit he's sure he'll be doing a lot more of in the near future. "Something you want to share with the class?" 

Dawson nods with a speed rivaling a woodpecker and drops his laptop on the table to face everyone. On the screen is an Instagram photo of a girl who looks around ten years old, posing with the flag they found and wearing a suit identical to NASA's own issued space suits, sans a mission patch or any other identifying patches. If that isn't bizarre enough, in the background of the photo is a man in a three piece suit with wings - _wings!_ \- trying to light a cigarette. There's no way the photo is real, except it has to be, because they found a flag, as well as footprints which they identified as belonging to (now understandably) small space suit shoes, and fucking Louboutins.

The description doesn’t offer much more explanation, only reading “PRESIDENT OF MARS!!!!” and tagging a guy named Lucifer fucking Morningstar.

"Bullshit," Romero roars, and Dawson shrinks back and attempts to become one with his chair. "This is a fucking joke. S _omeone_ is out there, bouncing signals off a satellite-"

"We checked nine times, you know it's legit-"

"-and then staging a photo op to go with it!"

"This was posted, uh..." Dawson scrolls down and goes white as he spots the date. "Two years ago."

" _What._ "

Dawson recedes further into his seat. The room is dead silent, everyone trying and failing to wrap their heads around the bomb that was just dropped. What the fuck do they do with this?

Romero slams his palms down on the table. "Do you know what this means?"

"That we've been wasting our money building satellites and rovers and rockets when we could've paid this guy to fly around with a camera and sample kits?" Howlett says from the back.

"Shut the fuck up, _Greg,_ it means," Romero takes a deep breath, and the next words physically pain him. "That we have to bury this, say the transmission cut out until we can get Perseverance somewhere without," he waves his hand at the laptop, "them all over it. This could destroy our credibility as an agency. No one can ever know about this."

Everyone looks around the room in dismay. Millions of dollars, their life’s work, all down the drain because some dude with wings decided to take a kid to space.

\--

A year into the Mars Perseverance Rover mission, several days of footage and data are suddenly lost, and the rover’s travel itinerary abruptly changes. The conspiracy theory community goes insane.

**Author's Note:**

> This first sprung up in my head as that Instagram post of Trixie's, and then it just kinda evolved into a story of 'how' from there. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope it was an enjoyable read as well.
> 
> I’m super new to the fandom, so I'd love to hear what you think! No beta, so feel free to let me know if you find any glaringly obvious mistakes as well. Punctuation still confounds me to this day, to the dismay of all my English teachers over the years.


End file.
